


A Dustland Fairytale

by CoffeeBean_1207



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Bikers, Alternate Universe - Diners, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Biker Daryl Dixon, F/M, Merle Dixon Being Merle Dixon, Merle Dixon Lives, Protective Daryl Dixon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23482171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeBean_1207/pseuds/CoffeeBean_1207
Summary: "Out where the dreams roll highAnd where the wind don't blowOut here the good girls dieAnd the sky won't snow"- A Dustland Fairytale, The Killers***Carol's been working in the same shitty diner in the same shitty Nevada town for the last ten years, saving her tips and trying to stay out of Daryl's way when he comes in every day for a cup of coffee. But when one night he saves her from an armed robbery gone wrong, suddenly he isn't so easy to ignore.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon & Carol Peletier, Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	A Dustland Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aydyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aydyl/gifts).



He was here again. He came every day after he closed up his garage two doors down. It wasn’t that Carol hadn’t noticed, this town was so fucking small you couldn’t help but know everyone, she was just ignoring him. He hadn’t done anything, not really, but the way he held himself, the easy confidence as he ordered another coffee refill, his gruff thanks when she put down the same plate of cherry pie he ordered every day, caused a ripple of awareness down her spine that she couldn’t trust. Not anymore.

  
Daryl glanced up from beneath a fringe too long to ever look anything but a mess and gestured for the bill. At least he always tipped well. He clearly wasn’t a complete asshole.

  
“Here you go,” Carol slapped the bill on the table in front of him, shooting him a tight smile before retreating to the relative safety of her counter. She pretended not to watch him as he pulled out a few bills from his pocket, leaving them on the table and heading for the door. Pulling it open he turned, raising a grease stained hand in a wave. Carol nodded her acknowledgment, going to collect the money and tucking her tip into the pocket of her apron. Definitely not a complete asshole.

  
It was late, the last couple of customers dragging out cold cups of coffee and congealed desserts, putting off heading out into the dark. Carol moved round them, wiping down tables, collecting empty dishes, getting as much cleaning done as she could before the clock hit ten. The cook was already gone, food having stopped serving a half hour ago, and Carol was shutting up alone, as per fucking usual. Finally, everyone cleared out. She flipped the sign to closed, turned the lock, and started cashing up her till.

Later, she would remember someone breathing, the sound of footsteps on gravel, and wonder how she had been so stupid. But at ten fifteen all she was aware of was the still, arid desert air on her face as she went to take the trash out, the sour sweet smell of sunbaked garbage. So the man’s hand over her mouth took her by surprise. Wrong footed, she dropped the bag she’d been holding, inhaling sharply past the press of his fingers against her face.

“If you scream, I’ll fucking shoot you. Get your keys.”

  
Carol held her hands up in surrender, her stomach dropping to the floor as she felt the press of something hard and cold at the small of her back. “They’re in my pocket,” she tried to say around his fingers.

  
“What?”

  
She gestured to the pocket of her jacket. He nodded. “Okay. Slow.”

  
Slowly, so slowly she wanted to scream, Carol reached into her pocket, retrieving her keys and holding them in front of her so the man could see. He gestured to the back door of the diner, gun metal glinting in the security lights. She felt sick.

  
“Open it.”

  
With shaking fingers, she unlocked the door, stumbling slightly on the step as he shoved her inside. The door rebounded on its hinges, coming to rest slightly agar, illuminating the hallway with a narrow strip of orange light.

  
“Safe. Now.”

  
Carol nodded, punching in the code on the door of the small office. She fumbled, hitting two keys together and swore, clearing it to start again.

  
“Hurry the fuck up.”

  
She bit back a whimper, this asshole wasn’t going to know how scared she was, and started again, the barrel of his gun grinding a bruise into her back. Finally, the door swung open and she stepped into the tiny office. There was only room for a desk and the safe tucked just to the left of the door. The man forced his way in behind her and she tried to turn, to look at his face, but he took her head in his free hand and forced her round. “Open it.”

  
Anger flared in her stomach, rage, disgust at his touch but another thrust of his gun at her back smothered it. Pride would do her no good if he fucking shot her. She found the key she needed and crouched, unlocking the heavy iron door. The week’s takings were there, cashed up and ready to go. She took them out and handed them over, looking up as she did so. The man had a bandanna tied inexpertly across the lower half of his face, but she recognized him. And he knew it.

Shoving the money in his bag he grabbed her by the back of her pink polyester dress, hauling her to her feet. Carol began to struggle, fear clawing its way up her throat as she fought to free herself, when there was a dull crack, the sound of wood against something solid and heavy. The man dropped her, and she fell, lashing out blindly as she did so, kicking at the man’s legs from her position on the floor.

  
“Fucking assho—” the man began, but then the crack sounded a second time and he crumpled, his legs buckling.

  
“Carol, Carol, hey,” a voice she recognized came through the dark and she felt a hand curl gently around her arm. Blindly, she smacked out, her hand connecting with something warm and solid. “Fucking— ow. Carol. It’s me.”

  
The haze of fear and anger began to subside, and Carol opened her eyes. She could see the safe still open beside her and a man, the man, in an ungainly heap, his head bleeding all over the office floor. Jesse Lebowitz. She’d fucking known. But behind him there was someone else, a pair of oil splatted Timberlands and black jeans.

  
“Daryl?”

  
He dropped the baseball bat, reaching over Jesse to help her to her feet. “Did he hurt you?”

  
“I— No,” she said. “How did you…?”

  
“Went for a smoke out the back. Saw the door was open, didn’t seem right.” He still had his hand on her arm. Carol stepped back out of reach and he cleared his throat, turning his attention to the man on the floor. “Thought I’d see if you needed a hand.”

  
“I should call the cops.”

  
“No,” said Daryl, leaning down and taking the money out of Jesse’s bag. “No cops. We’ll deal with him. Here’s your money.” He held it out, keeping back from her.

  
“We?”

  
Daryl didn’t say anything. Carol reached out and took the money, turning her back on him to put it back in the safe. She inhaled deeply, trying to stop her hands from shaking as she locked up the money, putting her keys back in her pocket. She could hear him behind her as he stepped out into the corridor.

  
“Merle? Get your ass down to the diner…” but then he walked away, and she couldn’t hear anymore.

***

Jesse fucking Lebowitz. Daryl was going to wring his fucking neck. Finishing on the phone, he slipped back through the doorway and went to find Carol. She was still in the office, perched on the edge of the desk, short gray hair illuminated in the orange of the security light coming in through the window. The thought that Jesse could have hurt her made bile rise in his throat and he clenched his fists at his side.

Ten years. Ten years she’d worked in this fucking diner in this fucking dead-end town and he’d fixed bikes and drunk coffee and watched her. She was better than this. Than all of it. Than the junkies and the dealers and the queues for social security that went around the block. Than the MCs and the guns and the turf wars. Better than him. He’d been born here, it was part of him, but not Carol. She was like a flower in the desert, suffocating. At least her deadbeat husband had finally had the good grace to die.

  
She looked up as he entered, eying him warily. “What will you do to him?”

  
Daryl shoved his hands in his pockets. He wanted to kick the shit out of him, but the less Carol knew about that, the better. “Talk.”

  
Carol laughed, but there wasn’t any humor in it. She sounded so tired. “Talk. Right. I need to go home, Daryl.”

  
“I’ll drive you.”

  
“No, you won’t.” She stood, stepping over Jesse’s prone body without a second glance. Daryl watched as she raised a hand to her head, running her fingers through her hair. She was shaking. This was fucking ridiculous, there was no way he was going to let her drive.

  
“Carol,” he said, reaching out a hand to touch her. He changed his mind at the last minute, turning up his palm. “Keys.”

  
“Daryl, I can drive myse—"

  
“For fuck’s sake, look at you. You’re shaking, probably whacked on adrenalin and anyway,” he cleared his throat. “I’d... I’d feel better if I knew you were safe. Don’t worry about this asshole. We’ll sort it.”

  
Carol looked up, meeting his gaze, eyes like flint. She was always so wary of him. Without looking away she fished her keys out of her pocket and slapped them into his upturned palm. “Fine,” she snapped. She turned, aiming a swift kick at Jesse’s side before brushing past Daryl into the corridor. “But if you scratch it, you pay for it.”

  
He let out a low chuckle despite himself, following her out into the dark. “Yes ma’am.”

  
This late, Carol’s car was the only one left in the lot. Daryl clicked the button on the keys and the headlights blinked as the doors unlocked. Carol opened the passenger door and got in, looking anywhere but at him.

  
“Where we headed?” he said as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  
“Angel Lake,” Carol mumbled, staring straight ahead of her, refusing to meet his eye.  
  


He knew the place. Angel Lake was an RV Park about ten minutes from the edge of town. If he got his ass in gear he could get there and back in time to meet Merle and see what they were going to do about Jesse. But he didn’t want to hurry, not with Carol riding shotgun and so obviously shaken up. She was trying to hide it, but she was doing a piss poor job. Daryl put they key in the ignition and left it there, fishing in his pocket for his cigarettes. He stuck two in his mouth and lit up, holding one out to Carol. She sat, looking at it as if it was going to blow up in her face.

  
“I don’t fucking bite,” he said. It came out harsher than he’d meant, and she glanced up at him, her eyes skittering across his face before coming to rest on the dashboard in front of her.

Finally, she took the cigarette, taking a greedy drag before letting her head fall back onto the headrest behind her, eyes half closed. “Thanks.”  
  


Daryl grunted, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the lot.

  
Thankfully it wasn’t a long drive. Carol sat in determined silence next to him, shutting down any attempt to draw her into conversation and in the end, Daryl gave up. He pulled into the gates at Angel Lake, letting Carol direct him to her trailer and he parked up, handing over the keys.

  
Carol took the key to the diner off the ring, holding it out. “You’ll need this.”

  
He nodded, taking it from her and tucking it into his pocket. “Right. Thanks. What time do you start tomorrow?”

  
“Six.”

  
“I’ll come find you.”

  
“Wait,” Carol reached out, putting a hand on his arm. Daryl stilled, her touch hot through the denim of his jacket. “I… Thank you. I’m sorry. I’ve been a bitch tonight. You…” She swallowed, finally meeting his eye. “I’d have been in real shit back there, without you.”

  
Daryl cleared his throat. “It’s… it’s nothing. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  
She inhaled the last of her cigarette, stubbing it out in the ashtray. “I’ve spent ten years in this piece of shit town,” she said, pulling the skirt of her dress over her knees. “You don’t last long if you crack every time a junkie tries to steal your purse.”

  
“He won’t bother you again,” he said, low menace creeping into his voice. Carol let go of his arm, opening the car door.

  
“No,” she looked at him, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Night, Daryl.”

***

Carol watched Daryl’s back recede into the darkness before unlocking the door of her trailer and heading inside. She retrieved that night’s tips from her pocket, thankful that Jesse hadn’t thought to look for those, and opened the kitchen cabinet, tucking them in o the coffee tin on the top shelf. Before Ed died, it had been her get the hell out of dodge fund, her “If Ed hits me one more time I’m out of here” fund, but she’d never had the guts to use it. Now, it was just there. Not quite enough to get her and Sophia out of town for good, but enough to make her feel better if business was slow.

  
The door of Sophia’s room was ajar, and Carol pushed it gently until she could lean inside. Her daughter was asleep, schoolbook open on her chest. She’d be graduating this summer, her long legs hanging off the narrow bed. Carol wondered where the time went. She turned off the lamp, picking up her pencil from where it had rolled on to the floor and crept out, trying not to disturb her.

Crossing to the tiny kitchen, she opened the cupboard and found the whiskey, pouring herself two fingers and downing it in one before pouring another, trying to stop the trembling in her hands. She was way too wired to sleep, her heart still beating a little too fast, her breathing a little too ragged. The memory of Daryl’s hand on her arm a little too vivid. She could almost still feel his fingers and she took a deep gulp of her drink in the hope that it would banish him from her mind. It didn’t.

  
If he hadn’t turned up when he did, if he’d just turned the other way and kept on going… she shuddered. She would have lost her job, for sure, however unfairly. And Jesse was a nasty piece of work, if he’d beat the crap out of her she couldn’t have afforded the medical bills. And if he’d done worse… But he didn’t. She was okay. That had to count for something.

  
She put the empty glass in the sink, heading for her bedroom at the back of the trailer. Digging out a t-shirt she got changed, pulling off her apron and the ugly pink waitress uniform before crawling underneath the covers. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm the hammering of her heart, the clamor of her mind, the goosebumps on her skin when she thought of the brush of grease stained fingers and a pair of blue eyes behind a too long fringe.

***

Carol arrived to work early the next day, exhausted and wrung out but mostly whole. She tried to ignore the way her heart skittered in her chest when she saw Daryl leaning against the back door of the diner, cigarette between his lips.

  
He looked up as she approached, nodding in acknowledgment. “Got your key.”

  
“Thanks. How’s our friend?”

  
“Think he learned his lesson.” He pushed off the wall, his fingers brushing hers as he put her key in her upturned palm. She wanted to close her hand, to keep hold of them, hold of him, but she stepped past him to unlock the door.

  
“You want a coffee?” she said before she could think better of it.

  
He paused for a moment. “Sure.”

  
Carol pushed open the door, tentatively stepping into the small corridor, afraid of what she was going to find, but it was perfect. Not a thing out of place. Even the blood on the floor was gone where Jesse had been passed out on the office floor. “What did you… what did you do to him?”

  
Daryl closed the door behind them with a click. “Merle and I had a word about how you treat friends.”

  
Carol hung her jacket on the hook, having to maneuver carefully in the small hallway so as to not elbow him in the face. “I’m not any friend of Merle Dixon’s.”

  
“No,” Daryl leaned against the wall. “But you’re a friend of mine.”

  
She stopped, meeting his gaze. “Daryl, you hardly know me.”

  
“I’ve had a cup of coffee here every day for the past ten years. I know you plenty.”

  
There it was again, that spark in her chest, that mutual acknowledgment of awareness like fingers down her spine. If she reached out, she could touch him, run her hand across his chest, push that hair back off his face. From here, she could kiss him. Swallowing, Carol turned, opening the door that led into the diner, breaking away from that gaze that promised far too much that she’d spent a long time trying to forget.

  
Ed had been gone eighteen months, but Carol still woke up in the night waiting for the door to slam, to hear his voice telling her he was stupid and ugly and no good. She still jumped at loud noises. And she hated herself for it. Refusing to look behind her to see if Daryl had followed, she loaded up the coffee machine and set it whirring, only turning around once she heard the scrape of the bar stool behind her. Daryl sat, folding his hands on the counter in front of him. His knuckles were scraped and red, she realized, her stomach sinking.

She took a scoop of ice from the ice machine, wrapping it in a paper towel. “Come here.”

  
“What?” He leaned back, frowning. “No—”

  
“Give me your hand, Daryl.”

  
Looking away, he unlaced his fingers, letting her press the ice against his battered knuckles. “You had a word, huh?”

  
Glancing up at her, he shrugged. “Something like that.”

  
His hand was warm against hers in contrast with the chill of the compress, rough from his work fixing bikes at the shop. Almost unconsciously, her thumb rubbed small circles against the skin of his palm. She expected to be horrified, to at least feel something at the evidence of the violence of the night before, what he had done after he drove her home, but she didn’t. She felt safe. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  
“I did.” He looked up, meeting her eye. “No one touches you, Carol. You got that?”

  
Did he know? Did he know about Ed and the fear and the violence and years of control? Probably, she thought. It was a small town. Folks tended to know all kinds of shit they shouldn’t. But Ed was gone, and she was here and Daryl was right. No one was going to touch her, not ever again. She released his hands, turning to get the coffee pot and two mugs from the side, glad for a reason to look away.

  
“Will he be okay?”

  
“Oh yeah, son of a bitch is too ugly to die. He’s just going to rest up for a few days at the club house, get a few things straight. Thanks.” She put a mug of coffee down in front of him and he shot her a smile from under that fringe that made her knees feel like jelly. “He was using again.”

  
Carol pressed her lips together, pouring coffee into her own mug. “Meth?”

  
“Yeah. Stupid shit.” He took a gulp of coffee, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “My old man was a meth head. Only one way that ends.”

  
It was a common enough story in that part of Nevada. Didn’t make it any easier. “I’m sorry.”

  
He snorted. “Good fucking riddance.”

  
“I can fix some breakfast?”

  
“Don’t your boss mind you giving away food?”

  
“Probably. But son of a bitch pays me shit so I figure I take what I can get.”

  
Daryl raised his mug in mock salute before downing the last of his coffee. “Thanks, darlin’, but I’ve got to go open up.”

  
“I ain’t your darlin’,” she shot back, and he laughed, getting to his feet.

  
“I’ll see you tonight.”

  
“I’m not going anywhere.”

***

Daryl was halfway through taking apart a Kawazaki when Merle arrived.

  
“Hey little brother.”

  
“Merle, you dumb son of a bitch, do not come over here.”

  
“Why?” Merle grinned, taking a swipe at a tray of bolts. They wobbled alarmingly, but thankfully didn’t fall. “Scared I’m gon’ break something?”

  
“Yeah, I am, so back the fuck off. What do you want?”

  
Merle chuckled, dropping into the chair at Daryl’s desk and putting his feet up on the paperwork. “Can’t I come see my own brother now?”

  
“I’m workin’.”

  
“I can see that.”

  
Daryl sighed, straightening up and wiping his hands on a rag. “How’s Jesse?”

  
“Sore,” Merle grinned unpleasantly. “But he’ll live. Your girlfriend squealed?”

  
“She’s not my girlfriend,” muttered Daryl, reflexively. “And no. Carol’s not gonna go to the cops. I told her we dealt with it.”

  
Merle nodded. “See she don’t.”

  
“She won’t, Merle. Leave her be.”

  
“Or what?” He stood.

  
“Merle just leave it. I don’t want trouble.”

  
“I’m not causing trouble, brother,” Merle stepped over the debris on the garage floor, coming face to face with Daryl. “Never do.”

  
“Merle—”

  
“You think you’re so much better,” he said, stepping until they were nose to nose. “You dare talk to me like I’m a piece of shit, man.”

  
“Merle, I didn’t—”

  
“No, you listen. I don’t cause you trouble and you fucking know it. Who paid for this place, hm? Who set you up?”

  
“You did—”

  
“Me,” Merle reached between them, taking the front of Daryl’s overalls in his fist. “Club money set you up, club money fucking keeps you going. Whose bike are you working on, hm? Tommy’s.”

  
Daryl shoved him and he let go, taking a step back. For a second, they stared at each other, every muscle in Daryl’s body tense, ready to run, to fight, anything. But then Merle laughed, reaching for him, ruffling his hair.

  
“You’re a stupid motherfucker,” he said.

  
Daryl ducked out of reach, tugging his overalls back into place. “We done?”

  
“Yeah, we’re done, brother.” Merle smiled, all teeth. “How about some dinner?”

  
“I’m not finished—”

  
“Yeah. You are. You know, I’ve not been to the diner in a long time.”

  
“Merle—”

  
“And d’you know what? This once, I’ll pay.”

***

Daryl was early. Carol glanced at the clock as he came in, it was only six thirty. He normally didn’t close the garage until eight. She opened her mouth to say something when she saw the man standing behind him, saw the way Daryl was looking at her. Like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Merle Dixon was possibly the nastiest son of a bitch Carol had ever met and tonight he seemed to have eyes only for her.

  
“Carol honey,” Merle called out, voice too loud across the dinner rush. “Can we get a couple of coffees?”

  
“Coming right up.” Her smile was forced, too tight on her face. Merle reminded her too much of Ed, no respect for anything, violence simmering under every word, but where Ed had been a coward beneath all that force, Merle was just unhinged.

  
“Thanks, doll.” Merle smiled up at her as she put mugs down on the formica in front of the two brothers.

  
She smiled through gritted teeth. “You’re welcome.”

  
Daryl glanced up at her from beneath his hair, his mouth set in a firm line.

  
“Did you have a nice evening, Miss Carol?” Merle asked, his voice so polite it was actually worse than if he came right out and threatened her.

  
“I did.” Carol forced another smile.

  
“Nothing happen?”

  
She cocked her head to one side, frowning slightly. “Nothing but the usual. Why d’you ask, Merle? You heard something?”

  
Merle smiled. “Just checking, sugar tits.”

  
“Merle,” Daryl’s voice was a low growl, his knuckles white on the edge of the table. “Back the fuck off.”

  
“What? Just asking the lady a question.” Merle laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. Carol clenched her jaw, knowing better than to rise to the bait.

  
“I’m sorry, Carol.”

  
“You don’t apologize for me, little brother. I ain’t done nothin’.”

  
Carol turned her tray over in her hands, stepping backwards. She’d seen the brothers go at each other before, and the last thing she needed was a full-blown fist fight in the middle of the dinner shift. “If that’ll be all, I’ll be going back to my station.”

  
Merle turned to her, blue eyes hard. “Yeah, that’s all. Good of you, you know, to give us coffee on the house.”

  
Of fucking course. Daryl glared at his brother, his grip so hard on his mug Carol was vaguely surprised it didn’t break. She put a hand on his shoulder, willing him to stop, to think. Merle’s eyes flicked from her to Daryl and back again, a lewd smirk on his face. Carol gave Daryl’s shoulder a quick squeeze then released him. “You’re welcome, Merle. I like to pay a debt.”

  
His eyes narrowed on hers for a moment, but then he nodded. She took that as permission to leave, not that she needed it in her own fucking diner. Without another word she returned to her counter, doing her best not to look at them for the rest of the evening.

***

With a deep breath, Carol picked up the trash bag and opened the back door. She was surprisingly calm considering the events of the night before, but then she’d lived in Nevada a long time. You don’t last long if you’re not tough. But that wasn’t to say she wasn’t human. A footstep behind her on the gravel made her pulse spike and she dropped the garbage bag, wheeling round right into Daryl’s chest.

  
He blinked. “Hey.”

  
“Daryl? Jesus,” Carol stepped backwards, running a hand across her short hair. “What are you doing here?”

  
“I…” Daryl inhaled deeply. “Carol, I’m sorry about Merle. He’s an asshole.”

  
“Yes. He is.”

  
“I can pay for the coffee.”

  
Carol laughed. “Don’t bother.”

  
“He thought you were gonna go to the cops.”

  
“Yeah, I figured. I’m not. I wouldn’t.”

  
“I know.”

  
They stared at each other for a moment in the orange glow of the security light. Daryl fished in his pocket for his cigarettes. “Smoke?”

  
“Okay.”

  
He held out the packet and she took one. Putting it between her lips she leant forwards as he held out his lighter, her fingers brushing his as he lit up for her. His gaze still on hers he lit one for himself, his lips parting as he exhaled a stream of smoke into the still desert air. Carol’s fingers itched to touch him, to reach out and snake beneath his jacket, beneath his shirt. She took a drag on her cigarette, stepping closer to him.

  
“Daryl,” she said. “I can’t get mixed up with Merle.”

  
“I know.”

  
“I’ve got Sophia to think of—”

  
“Carol. I know.”

  
She tapped ash onto the ground, glad to have something to do with her hands. “I’m sorry.”

  
He let out a soft huff of laughter. “Yeah, me too.”

  
“Do you ever…” she trailed off, looking up at him. His blue eyes met hers. “Do you ever feel like you’re just wasting your fucking life? Like, one minute you were twenty and there was so much ahead of you and there was so much you wanted to do? And then you blink, and it’s all gone and you’re washed up and wrung out and just… just waiting.”

  
Daryl took another drag, narrowing his eyes at her. “What’re you waiting for?”

  
“You know what, I don’t even know. More money, more time… and then something like last night happens and I realize how pointless all this shit is. How fragile.” She stepped closer to him again, almost unconsciously. “I spend all my life working to feed and clothe a daughter I never fucking see, and I don’t take anything for myself.”

  
He nodded. “Then why don’t you?”

  
“Why don’t I what?”

  
“Take something.”

  
Carol’s mouth went dry. She had spent so long trying not to see him, trying to fight how badly she wanted him and why? What for? All her reasons seemed so insignificant when he was standing in front of her, his eyes locked on hers.

  
Daryl threw his cigarette on the ground, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. “I’m not my brother.”

  
“I know.”

  
“And I ain’t Ed neither.”

  
She sucked in a breath, stepping back reflexively but Daryl moved forwards, closing the gap between their bodies. “I always thought you hated my guts,” he said softly, looking intently into her face. “But that weren’t it, was it?”

  
Carol swallowed. “I never hated you, Daryl.”

  
“What d’you want?”

  
She wet her lips reflexively, running on instinct. She wanted this so badly, wanted to not think. To feel something, just once. She’d been just surviving for so fucking long… “I can’t.”

  
“Oh, to hell with that,” he said, and then he kissed her. Carol froze, her hands clenched in fists against his chest, ready to fight, to push him away, but then his hand moved ever so softly to the small of her back, his tongue running across the seam of her mouth and all at once she gave in. Her lips parted for him and Daryl moaned softly against her mouth, both his hands moving to her face, his rough palms grazing her cheeks. It had been so long since someone had touched her like that, like they wanted her, like she was beautiful and precious and worthy, and she almost sobbed at the wonder of it.

  
Carol uncurled her fingers, pressing her hands against the hard contours of Daryl’s chest, sliding them down until she found the hem of his shirt. Hungry for skin, she slid beneath it, the sharp hiss of his breath as her fingers moved across his spine just adding fuel to the dull heat that was building in her stomach. Her whole body hummed, viscerally aware of every breath he took, every move he made as his tongue moved against hers. Carol melted against him as he seized her by the waist, lifting her and shoving her back against the wall of the diner and anything resembling coherent thought went skittering from her mind at the feeling of his hips between her legs, his arms supporting her as if she weighed nothing at all. Daryl’s hands were on her thighs, his lips moving down her neck and she tangled her hands in his hair.

  
He pulled back, looking at her, eyes dark. “Upstairs.”

  
“What?” Carol panted, confused, not wanting him to stop.

  
He made a noise in the back of his throat that was somewhere between a moan and a growl and put her over his shoulder, carrying her towards the fire escape.

  
Carol squeaked with alarm, batting at his shoulder. “Hey, Tarzan. I got legs.”

  
He dropped her on her feet, kissing her again, her back pressed against the metal banister. “I said, upstairs.”

  
She followed him up the narrow staircase, and he slid open the window, throwing one leg over the sill. “Whose apartment is this?”

  
“Mine,” he said, shooting her a look. “B and E ain’t really my style.”

  
Carol shimmied inside, reaching for him, pulling him against her. “Shut up and kiss me,”

  
“Well, you asked,” he said, but then his mouth found hers in the semidarkness, his hands on her hips, on her back, undoing the zip at the back of her dress. She let it fall as he took a step back, looking at her.

  
“What?” she said, suddenly shy.

  
Daryl didn’t say anything, just held out a hand. Carol took it, letting him pull her towards him, kissing a slow, infuriating trail from her lips, down her neck, on to her chest. His hand found the fastening of her bra, unhooking it as she slid her hands beneath his shirt, tugging it up, over his head. Daryl took her face between his hands, kissing her, the feeling of his chest against her own causing a surge of desire through her. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, her hands going to the waistband of his pants. She undid the button and he toed off his boots, pulling off his pants and reaching for her again. Carol pressed herself against him, letting him steer her towards the bed, falling backwards when she felt the mattress against the back of her legs.

  
Daryl went to his knees in front of her, pressing his mouth against the inside of her thigh and she moaned aloud, her hands tangling in his hair as he kissed his way up her leg towards the place where her desire was coiling itself into a hard knot inside her. His hands went to the band of her underwear and pulled, discarding it and pressing his mouth against her, his tongue tracing a line of wet heat that made her cry out.

  
“Oh, Daryl, fuck,” Carol moaned, clutching at his shoulders as his tongue worked, threatening to push her over the edge. “I can’t…”

  
He pulled away and she groaned, tugging him upwards by his shoulders until he was on top of her, his hips between her legs, the pressure providing poor relief to the growing tide of need in her stomach. Carol reached up, taking his face in her hands and drawing him towards her, needing to see his face. This was a one time thing, she told herself. No point getting all soft. But then Daryl kissed her hard and slow, his tongue moving against hers as he dragged his fingers up the soft skin on the inside of her thigh and any thought about tomorrow left her mind.

  
Carol shuddered beneath him, pulling her legs up and locking them around his waist as his hands skimmed across her skin, one finger pressing inside her. She gasped, pushing her hips up to meet him, and he answered with a soft growl in the back of his throat as he pressed deeper, his teeth grazing the side of her neck. It was so almost what she needed, so good and not enough all at once, and Carol clutched at him, her nails tracing thin white lines across the planes of his back.

  
But then he stopped and she whimpered at the loss, feeling for him in the darkness when he leaned away to reach into the drawer beside the bed. She heard the rustle of foil and, after a pause she felt him press against her, pressure so gentle she thought she might go mad.

  
“Please,” she said, her voice hardly more than a gasp as she clutched at him, pulling him against her, inside her. He groaned in response, pressing his forehead against hers as he entered her, his grip tight around her hips.

  
The feel of him above her, inside her, fed her mounting need and Carol clutched at his shoulders, seeking his mouth with hers. She kissed him hungrily, pulling his hips hard against hers, every thrust lighting her up from the inside out. She was mercury beneath his hands, liquid and yielding and he pushed into her, his hands skimming across the peaks and troughs of her body. It was unrelenting, the pure sensation of it, and she was falling, the world reduced to the feeling of him inside her, the press of his lips against hers. His fingers moved between her legs, touching her as he moved inside her and Carol felt her pleasure pulling her under, breaking inside her at the feeling of his mouth and his cock and his hands. She cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as he moved faster, letting go, his own cry muffled against her neck as he came.

  
“Jesus, Daryl.” Carol hid her face in the crook of her arm as he collapsed beside her, her breathing ragged.

  
“What?” he panted, looking over at her.

  
She rolled over, kissing him, her fingers tracing along his jaw, his collarbone, unable to articulate the tangle of emotions in her chest. The want, the warmth. The fear. She hadn’t felt anything like this, not in a long time. And last time it had landed her with a husband who had made her life a fucking misery. She couldn’t go through that again. Daryl looked into her face, his brow furrowed, and his hand moved to the back of her head, pulling her against him. She closed her eyes, pressing her face against his chest. Just once, that’s what she’d said.  
  


“Nothing,” she said, finally, drawing away. “Go to sleep.”

***

Daryl took a drag on his cigarette, his back propped up against the pillows, watching Carol as she dozed. She would have to leave, he knew, would have to go home to Sophia. But for now she was here, a warm, reassuring weight on the mattress next to him, her hand resting on his stomach, breathing soft and even. He reached out, running a finger across her cheek.

  
“Hm?” Her eyes flickered open, looking up at him. “What?”

  
“Nothin’. Go back to sleep.”

  
Her eyelids closed for a moment and then she shifted, pushing herself upright. “I’ve got to go.”

  
Daryl took another drag on his cigarette before offering it to her. She took it. “I’ll drive you.”

  
“I really can drive myself, Daryl.” She shot him a vaguely amused look, putting the cigarette between her lips as she sat up properly, rooting around on the floor for her clothes.

  
“Never said you couldn’t.”

  
Carol found her waitress uniform, pulling it over her head. “Stay. I’m fine.” She leaned forwards as if to kiss him, but Daryl caught her around the waist, pulling her onto his lap. He looked up into her face, wishing he could tell her how badly he’d wanted this, that he’d wanted her for so long, but he didn’t know how.

  
“Stay safe,” he said, finally, reaching behind her to do up the zip of her dress. Carol’s face softened and she leaned forwards, abandoning the cigarette in the ashtray next to the bed before pressing a kiss against his lips.

  
“I will.”

  
“You, um…” He cleared his throat, resting a hand tentatively on her knee. She didn’t push him off. “Am I gonna see you again?”

  
Carol laughed. “There another diner in town I don’t know about?”

  
“You know what I meant.”

  
She sighed, pressing a hand against his cheek. “Daryl, I… I meant it when I said I couldn’t afford to get mixed up with your brother. The Heretics, they’re bad news.”

  
“I’m not Merle’s lapdog, Carol.”

  
“Hate to break it to you honey but yes, you are.”

  
He ran a hand over his face, looking away. “You weren’t there,” he said. “It was before you came to town. We were just kids when our parents died. Merle, he’s a nasty son of a bitch and I know it, but he raised me, Carol. Kept me fed. Put a roof over my head. Got no schooling to speak of so ended up running errands for The Heretics and you know what he bought with his first paycheck?” Carol shook her head. “Groceries. And a shit ton of booze, but he always made sure I ate. And yeah, he drinks and whores and pops any pill he can get his hands on, but he’s not a monster. He’s my brother, Carol. The club? It’s the closest thing I’ve got to a family.”

  
Carol stood up, straightening her skirt and checking her face in the mirror. “You’re a good man, Daryl,” she said, meeting his eye in the glass. She picked up her purse. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

***

Carol unlocked the car and climbed in, shutting and locking the door behind her. She put her key in the ignition but couldn’t quite bring herself to turn it, pressing her head against the steering wheel. All she wanted to do was turn around, crawl under the covers next to Daryl and stay there.

  
God, she wished things were different. Wished he were someone else, that they were somewhere else, that Ed’s shadow didn’t reach quite so far. But he wasn’t, and she wasn’t. They were who they were, and they were stuck in this God forsaken town, and prayers and wishes wouldn’t get them very far. She turned the key, the engine stuttering and into life, and pulled away without stopping to see if the light was still on at Daryl’s window, without stopping to wonder if he was thinking of her, too.

  
She pulled into the trailer park to see Merle sitting on her drive, his bike parked on the lawn, the tip of his cigarette bright in the darkness.

He stood as she approached. “Nice place you got here, Miss Carol.”

  
“You want something, Merle?”

  
He laughed. “Can I not drop by and see my neighbor?”

  
“It’s late.”

  
“Sure is.” He looked her up and down. “Where you been?”

  
“Not sure what that’s got to do with you.”

  
“Just making conversation,” he turned, walking back to her front step. He sat down, patting the ground beside him. Warily, Carol sat as far away from him as she could. “You see, Miss Carol,” he stretched out, one foot hooked over the other, his back against the door of her trailer. Between her and Sophia. “My brother ain’t the smartest man but he ain’t dumb. Not usually, anyway. But he’s just got this big ol’ blind spot when it comes to you.”

  
Carol looked at him. “Merle, I—”

  
“Now, I’m gon’ ask you once more. Did you have a good evening last night?”

  
“I did. Nothing amiss. Came straight home, had a drink, went to bed.”

  
“And you didn’t see nothing?”

  
She shook her head. “Weren’t nothing to see.”

  
Merle took a drag on his cigarette, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Good girl.”

  
“I’m a lot of things, but I ain’t that.” Carol laughed, pulling out her own cigarettes and lighting one with steady hands. “Good girls die out here, Merle, you know that.”

  
“Sure do.” He smiled unpleasantly but she didn’t flinch, taking another drag as she held his gaze.

  
“How’s Jesse?”

  
“How would I know? I ain’t his mother.”

  
“Merle, Daryl’s as mixed up in this as you, you know I’m not gonna rat.”

  
He looked at her for a moment, blue eyes cold, calculating, so different from his brother’s. Finally, he spoke. “Where were you tonight?”

  
“I don’t answer to you, Merle, and you don’t scare me neither. Now get the fuck off my lawn.” Carol stood but Merle grabbed her wrist, his fingers holding her hard enough to bruise.

  
“Alright, alright, sit down. Jesus,” he said, laughing, pulling her down beside him with a thud. His hand stayed on her wrist, vicelike, until her fingers started to tingle. She didn’t flinch. “There’s a party, tomorrow, at the clubhouse. Come.”

  
“I can’t, I work Sunday nights at the diner.”

  
“We’ll cover that. Coffee ain’t rocket science. You know the address.”

  
Everyone knew the address. Carol pulled back and he let her, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was no way he was going to let her say no. Merle finally stood, dropping his cigarette butt onto the grass.

  
“You sleep well now, Miss Carol,” he said, mounting his bike and shooting her a smile that was a breath away from an open threat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

***

Daryl tucked his gun into the back of his pants and pulled on his boots, glancing at himself in the mirror before opening the window and climbing out. He took the fire escape steps down the back of the shop, crossing behind the diner and out into the parking lot. No sign of Carol’s car. Telling himself it was just neighborly concern, Daryl walked round the side of the building, peering through the glass. Cindy, one of Merle’s girls, was behind the counter, pissy expression on her face. A prickle of unease ran up the back of his neck. He pulled open the door and went inside.

  
“Daryl,” Cindy perked up slightly when she saw him. “You headed to the party?”

  
“Yeah,” he said. “Where’s Carol?”

  
Cindy’s face fell again, a crease appearing between her overplucked eyebrows. “Merle said she had somewhere to be, so I had to cover the shift. I can’t even work the fucking coffee machine.”

  
Daryl’s mouth went dry. “Did he say where she was going?”

  
“Party, I guess.” She pouted. “Do you know how to work this thing?”

  
“I’m a mechanic Cindy, not a fucking waitress,” he said, turning away. “I’m sure it ain’t rocket science.”

  
“But there are so many buttons,” she wailed, still calling after him as he headed out the door.

  
Daryl went back to the parking lot, mounting his bike and starting the engine. He had to find Carol. If Merle had even laid a finger on her, he was going to kick the dumb prick’s head in.  
The lot at Mary’s was full when Daryl arrived. He parked his bike round the back and made his way in through the staff entrance, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

  
“Hey, baby.”

  
He turned to see Kasey leaning against the doorway of the office. She was dressed for the party, black hair loose around her shoulders, wearing nothing but a tank top and low-slung jeans. Kasey was Cash’s old lady, the closest thing he and Merle had ever had to an actual mom. “Hey, darlin’. You seen Merle?”

  
She nodded to the door. “Out front. Been looking for you.”

  
He leaned forwards, pressing his lips to her cheek. “I’ll bet.”

  
“You okay?” Kasey frowned, peering into his face. “What’s the dumb shit done this time?”

  
“It’s fine, Kase. Cash in there?”

  
“Sure is. You go, I’ll be out in a bit.”

  
Daryl nodded, squeezing her arm before heading out into the bar. It was busy, full of members and prospects, old ladies, friends, hangers on. Merle was at the bar, making quick work of a line of shots. He had a girl on either side, groupies by the looks of them. Daryl vaguely recognized one of them but the other one was new, and both were young enough to be Merle’s daughter. He began to push his way through the crowd, nodding hellos, making a beeline for Merle, when he saw her, the hard knot of worry unraveling in his chest.

  
Carol was sitting at a table by herself, beer in her hand, staring into the crowd. Like she was looking for someone. Like she was waiting. It was weird seeing her out of that dumb waitress uniform, like that pink polyester dress was some kind of second skin. She scanned the crowd again and caught his eye, corner of her mouth twitching upwards.

  
“Hey,” he said as he reached her table. “Anyone sitting here?”

  
“Be my guest.” She pushed the stool out with her foot, and he sat, leaning towards her.

  
“What’re you doing here?”

  
“Merle invited me,” Carol said. “Wasn’t the kind of invite you could say no to.”

  
Daryl smirked. “Yeah, I saw Cindy at the diner.”

  
“Who?”

  
“The girl Merle sent to cover your shift. That coffee machine’s complicated, huh?”

  
She blinked at him. “There’s about two buttons.”

  
“Like I said, complicated.”

  
Carol laughed, taking a sip of her beer. As she did so the sleeve of her jacket fell back, revealing a line of finger shaped bruises on her pale skin. He reached forward, catching her hand.

  
“Hey, who did this?” he asked, pushing up her sleeve.

  
“Daryl, leave it.” Carol pulled away and he drew his hands back, looking across the table at her, jaw clenched.

  
“That Merle? He touch you?”

  
“Daryl, it was nothing—”

  
“When?”

  
“He… he came by last night. He was waiting for me when I got back. Didn’t believe that I wasn’t going to go to the cops. But we talked—”

  
He got to his feet, hands clenched into fists at his side. “Son of a bitch.”

  
“Daryl, don’t—”

  
Carol stood, reaching for him but he brushed her off, heading for the bar. Merle saw him approaching and opened his arms, pulling Daryl into a hug. “Hey, little brother.”

  
He shoved him and Merle fell back into the bar, laughing as Daryl seized the front of his shirt, their faces inches apart. “What’re you doing, bringing Carol?” He spat. “I’ve seen her arm. You fucking drag her here, you piece of shit?”

  
“She’s your old lady, ain’t she? Thought you’d be pleased. Whole family’s here.”

  
“She ain’t my old lady. Jesse here?”

  
“Like I said,” Merle smiled. “Whole family.”

  
“You shit.” Daryl lunged for him, but Merle shoved him back, holding up his hands.

  
“I was just trying to be friendly.”

  
“Like hell you were. Stay away from her.”

  
Merle stepped forwards until they were nose to nose, blue eyes cold. “Or what, hm? What you gonna do?”

  
“I’m gonna kick your fucking head in—”

  
“Daryl,” A hand seized him from behind and pulled. Daryl lashed out, trying to land a punch before he was out of range, but then Kasey was in front of him. She was holding the bat from the back room and he knew from experience she wasn’t shy with it. He span around to see Cash, The Heretic’s President, standing behind him, glaring at them both. “Take that shit outside.”

  
“Gladly.”

  
“Daryl,” Carol pushed through the crowd. “No.”

  
Cash turned his eyes on her, eyebrows raised. “Carol?”

  
“Hey, Cash.”

  
“Never seen you in Mary’s. Got bored of coffee?”

  
She smiled blandly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Something like that. Come on Daryl, let’s go.”

  
Daryl turned, shoving Merle once more before Kasey could make her way between them. “You stay away from her, Merle. You hear me?”

  
“I hear you, little brother.” Merle spat at his feet, sneering at him as Daryl turned, following Carol out the bar. She was perched on the wall outside, waiting for him. “Some party.”

  
Daryl grunted. “Carol, listen…” He looked at her, chest aching. He knew what he had to do. “You’ve gotta get out of here.”

  
“Daryl—”

  
“This,” He pointed behind him. “This is my life. I ain’t patched in, but I might as well be, I’m so deep in it. The club owns the shop, most of my business is their bikes, and Merle… much as I hate it most of the time, he’s my blood. I can’t get away from this.” He paused, inhaling shakily, reaching for her. She let him push her sleeve up and watched as he ran his fingers over her bruises. “But you can.”

  
“What—?”

  
“You said yourself you can’t get mixed up with Merle. I promised you, didn’t I? That no one would touch you? And I…”

  
“It was nothing.”

  
“That ain’t nothing. You don’t belong here, Carol.”

  
“But—”

  
“But nothing. Go home.” He blinked, hard, letting her go.

She folded her arms across her chest, looking at him. “You planning on letting me speak?”

  
“No. Go home.”

  
“You know what I think?”

  
“What?” he snapped.

  
Carol stood. “You could leave,” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You said yourself you’re not patched in. Heretics can’t keep you if you wanna go. You just like it. You like the girls and the bikes and the liquor. You’d rather kick the shit out of someone than ask them a fucking question and you’d rather try and tell me what to do than listen to me. You can’t leave Merle, not because you owe him some big debt or because he’s your blood, but because you’re just like him.

  
“You have no right to order me about like you’re my fucking father. You’re not anything to me, Daryl. You’re just some guy from the diner and no man is going to tell me how to live my life. Not ever, ever again.”

  
Daryl stepped back from her, hands falling to his side. “When have you ever seen me with another girl, huh? In ten fucking years, name one time.”

  
“What?”

  
“You said I like the girls and the bikes and the drink. And yeah, I’ll give you the last two, but since you been in town when have you ever seen me even look at a woman who weren’t you?”

  
She opened her mouth and then closed it again, her arms folding around her as if to hold him at bay. “I…”

  
“You know what, fuck you, Carol. Just fuck you. What do I know? I’m just some hick biker from the diner.” He turned away, walking back towards the bar. “Go home,” he called over his shoulder. “We’re done.”

***

Daryl kept going until he was out of sight. The back of the clubhouse was deserted, and he slowed, leaning against the wall.

  
“Dumb bitch,” he muttered, scrubbing his eyes with his grazed fist. He turned, kicking the wall, his frustration and guilt and utter fucking misery threatening to overwhelm him. He was going to die alone in this fucking dead-end town and for what? For his thug of a brother and a club that wasn’t his. Rubbing a hand over his face, Daryl pulled open the staff door, coming face to face with Cash coming the other way.

  
“Hey, brother.” He clapped Daryl on the back. “You alright?”

  
“Fine.”

  
“You calmed down?”

  
Daryl tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m just here to say goodbye to Kase, and I’ll be on my way.”

  
“Stay.”

  
“I can’t.”

  
Cash nodded, leaning against the wall, regarding him steadily. “I never did get why you wouldn’t patch in. We all thought you would. Offer’s still there.”

  
“Why, Merle ain’t enough for you?”

  
“Merle’s enough for anybody. But you’re not like him, Daryl. You’re smart, honest. I need men like you.”

  
“I can’t do that, Cash. I fix bikes your bikes, I’d back you in a fight, but I keep my nose clean. You know that.”

  
“Thought I did. But then you nearly knocked Jesse’s head clean off with a fucking Louisville Slugger.”

  
“That was different.”

  
“’Cause of Carol?”

  
Daryl exhaled. “I’m not gonna lie, that was part of it. But you don’t shit where you eat. Why’d he try to hit the diner? It’s two doors from the shop, first place the cops would look is us. Hell, why’s he hitting anywhere at all? Armed robbery’s hardly your style.”

  
“He owed someone pretty nasty a lot of money.”

  
“Oh yeah? Who?”

  
Cash took a cigarette from behind his ear, sticking it in his mouth and lighting up. “Me.”

  
“What?” Daryl blinked in disbelief. “You got enough, Cash, why you chasin’ for loans?”

  
“It’s club business, Daryl. I can’t.”

  
“I thought he was using again, thought that’s what the money was for.”

  
Cash looked at him. A slow, sick feeling spread through Daryl’s stomach.

  
“Fucking drugs, Cash?”

  
“This is club business, Daryl. You ain’t patched, got nothing to do with you.”

  
“The hell it don’t. That shit killed my fucking pop, man. Does Merle know?”

  
Cash snorted. “It was Merle’s idea.”

  
“Son of a bitch.” Daryl slid down the wall, head in his hands. “And you’re selling to your own?”

  
“Small town, Daryl. Everyone’s one of our own.” He shrugged, lifting his cigarette to his mouth. “Town’s full of whores and junkies.”

  
Daryl scrabbled to his feet, shoving Cash into the wall. “We don’t do this shit. The other stuff, the fencing, the guns, that was one thing. But this? This kills people.”

  
“What, and guns don’t?” Cash hooked his leg round Daryl’s ankle and tripped him, sending him crashing to the floor. “We don’t do anything, Daryl,” Cash said, leaning over him, cigarette still hanging out the corner of his mouth as if nothing had happened at all. “You ain’t patched and your feelings ain’t my problem. I love you, brother, I do. But don’t think I won’t deal with it if you get in the way.”

  
Daryl sat up, spitting on the floor at Cash’s feet. “You ain’t my brother.” He stood, trying not to wince as pain shot through his left shoulder.

  
“Don’t be like that, Daryl. It ain’t personal. It’s just business.”

  
“What’s going on out there?” Daryl turned to see Kasey standing behind him, arms folded across her chest. She was glaring at Cash. “You just trip him? What’s gotten into y’all?”

  
“Did you know about this?” said Daryl.

  
Kasey eyed him warily. “Know about what?”

  
“The drugs.”

  
She looked at Cash, then back at him. “Ain’t my business what Cash does, I’m just his old lady.”

  
“Bullshit, Kase—”

  
“Hey, you watch your mouth. Only one who cusses at my wife is me. Go home, Daryl. Sleep on it. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

  
“Ain’t nothing to sleep on. This shit is wrong Cash.”

  
They stared at each other, Cash’s eyes hard. Kasey put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “Come on, baby,” she said, her voice low in his ear. “Go home. I’ll talk to him.”

  
Daryl shrugged her off. “Don’t bother. You can find yourself another mechanic.”

  
He barged past Cash and out the staff exit, heading for his bike. He was done, so done. Time for him to live his own fucking life.

***

Carol had been driving for about ten minutes when she saw the headlamp behind her. She wouldn’t have thought anything of it on any other night, but after what happened at the bar, she was pretty sure having a bike on her tail was no good thing. Cursing quietly under her breath she hit the accelerator, a cold fear gripping her as the bike sped up too.

  
“Oh, you motherfucker.” Trying not to take her eyes off the road, Carol fumbled for the glove box, holding the car steady with one hand as she rooted around. Sunglasses, kleenex, granola wrappers, she was gonna have to have a word with Sophia. Finally, her fingers hit metal. Her gun. It was the only thing of Ed’s she kept when he died. She’d burned the rest of it. Down to every last shirt.

  
She pulled out the gun, turning the safety off and putting it on the seat next to her within reach. Carol glanced in the rear-view mirror. The bike was gaining on her now. He swerved, starting to overtake and she tried to speed up but her crappy car was way outgunned. By now, he was close enough that she could see him in her side mirror. Definitely wasn’t Daryl and didn’t look like Merle, but she couldn’t get a good enough view of his face.

  
The bike sped up again, coming until he was level with the passenger window. That was when she saw the gun. Pure panic coursed through her as he held the bike steady, raising his gun one handed, and she swerved violently trying to get out of the line of fire, to clip him, anything. Just trying to get away. Her back tires swung out, hitting the dirt at the edge of the freeway and Carol let out a short scream, fighting to get the car back under control as it started to spin. The bike maneuvered out of the way, coming around the back and up her driver’s side as she turned the car around, coming back the way she’d come. She had to get back to the clubhouse, back into town where there was more traffic, someone who could help. And, if there was any God at all in this shitty town, where Daryl might still be waiting.

***

Daryl mounted his bike, his knuckles white on the handlebars. He just needed a minute. Just a minute to figure out what the hell he was gonna do. He’d been around long enough to know that pissing off Cash was a really bad idea.

  
He started the engine and headed out of the lot, heading away from town, towards Angel Lake. It wasn’t that late, but it was quiet, and he’d been riding for a ways before he saw any cars at all. As he turned a bend, he could see another car in the distance, the headlights small pinpricks of light on the freeway out of town. Then he saw another headlight, a bike by the looks of it, as they looped around the car to the driver’s side. A prickle went up the back of his neck as he watched the car speed up, the bike keeping pace. They were closer now and he could just make out the car in the gathering darkness. Looked a lot like Carol’s.

  
“Oh shit.” Daryl accelerated, trying to keep control through a haze of rage and sheer panic. He was nearly there when the bike skimmed the edge of the car and the driver, God he hoped it wasn’t Carol, lost control. The car skidded, the back wheels thrown out into the middle of the road, the front wheels skimming the dirt and sand on the side of the freeway. It finally skidded to a halt, half off the road and Daryl watched as the biker threw their bike down, running to the driver side door. He was so close now, he could see the Heretics jacket that the guy was wearing, see the back of his shaved head, bandaged on one side. Jesse. It had to be. Daryl sped up as Jesse pulled open the car door, a woman’s scream echoing through the still desert air.

  
“Get off me, you son of a bitch!”

  
Carol. Any hope that he was wrong, that it was a coincidence that the car looked like hers, evaporated as he heard her voice. He couldn’t hear anymore over the roar of his bike and he pressed on, praying that Carol was every bit as tough as he knew she was. Praying that he got to her in time.

***

Carol scrabbled back from the driver’s door as the man pulled it open. Jesse. She could see the Heretics jacket now, see the gleam of his shaved head, the mess of one eye and his busted nose.

  
“Get out the fucking car.”

  
He grabbed for her and Carol lashed out, landing a kick to his jaw as she felt wildly in the shotgun seat for her gun. It wasn’t there. Jesse swore, reeling backwards, clutching his face as she shuffled back, scrabbling in the footwell. It must have fallen when the car went off the road.

  
“You fucking bitch.” Jesse caught one foot and yanked at her, pulling her out of the car. Carol fell hard on the asphalt, crying out as her back bashed into the lip of the door on her way down. She kicked out at him again, but he was expecting it this time, dodging out of the way and landing a short, savage kick into the side of her ribs. Carol doubled over, her breath coming out of her in an excruciating rush, stars dotting her vision. Jesse drew back and kicked her again and she cried out, the pain all encompassing.

  
“Don’t like it, huh, bitch? Hurt? Your white trash boyfriend did a lot worse to me.” Jesse bent down, lifting her up by the front of her top, slamming her against the side of the car.  
Every breath sent pain shooting through her side, but she forced herself to slow down, to think, then rose her knee sharply upwards, landing a blow between Jesse’s legs. He doubled over and Carol drew her hand back, aiming a second blow at his eye, already bloodied and swollen from his run in with Merle and Daryl only a couple of nights before. The side of his head was bandaged, and she aimed for that next, but he caught her hand, dragging her to the floor.

  
“Think you’re tough?” He rasped, a hand around her neck, pinning her to the road. “Think a little whore like you has a chance against me?”

  
Carol gasped, clawing at his fingers as he tightened his grip, squeezing her throat. This wasn’t it. After ten years of surviving in a shitty part of Nevada, outliving an abusive asshole of a husband, working twelve hour shifts at a diner she hates to feed Sophia, this wasn’t how it ends. Darkness started creeping in at the side of her vision and she bucked wildly trying to throw him off, but he was too strong. Tears welled in her eyes, unbidden, as she reached for him, going for his face, his eyes, anything she could reach. But Jesse held on.

  
The darkness was growing now, her vision reduced to small circles of light in a sea of inky black, and she felt light, floaty, as if she could just let go. But that animal panic was still there, that visceral drive to hold on to that tiny piece of life and then that awful pressure at her throat was gone and the darkness was receding and she was gasping, air coming in vicious, greedy mouthfuls, searing her lungs the whole way down. She rolled on to her side, her whole body wracked with coughing, in time to see a pair of boots and black jeans standing over Jesse on his back in the dust.

  
“What part of ‘you touch her again and I’ll blow your head off’ did you not get, Jesse, huh?” Daryl’s voice came from somewhere above her, each word punctuated with a kick to Jesse’s side. Carol blinked hard, her oxygen starved brain slowly clicking into gear as Daryl straddled the other man, his fist colliding with the side of Jesse’s face. He drew his hand back to hit him again when Jesse reared up, his head connecting with the bridge of Daryl’s nose. Daryl swore, staggering back, blood running from his nostrils and Jesse saw his chance, scrambling to his feet.

  
Slowly, Carol edged backwards towards the car. She lifted herself up, trying not to panic as Jesse lifted Daryl from the ground, slamming him down again with enough force to make her teeth rattle. She was on the seat now, pulling the key from the ignition and putting it between her fingers, and easing into the shotgun seat. Praying Jesse wouldn’t notice her before she found that gun.

  
“Not such a big man without your brother,” Jesse spat, leaning over Daryl and punching him in the face. Daryl shoved him back, getting to his feet.

  
“Why don’t you come find out?”

  
It was desperate, bloody. Carol forced herself to look away from the two men, feeling frantically in the footwell of the car until, with a combination or relief and sheer terror her hand touched metal. She pulled out the gun, clambering from the car as Jesse knocked Daryl’s feet out from under him, grabbing his own gun from the dirt.

  
Carol fired. Jesse’s head snapped to the side as the bullet tore right through it. She watched with a kind of detached horror as he collapsed onto Daryl, pinning him down. Dead. Definitely dead.

  
“Daryl,” Carol sobbed, running to him and crouching at his side, pushing Jesse’s body off him. He winced, putting a hand to his face. “Are you okay?”

  
“I’ll live,” he said, spitting a mouthful of blood on to the dirt.

  
“Jesse —”

  
“He’s not a problem, just look at me. Can you breathe?”

  
“Hurts.”

  
Gently, he cupped her chin, turning her face from side to side, looking her over. “I’ll bet.”

  
Carol’s feet went out from under her and she fell into the dirt. She felt cold, numb, staring at Jesse’s prone body lying in the dust to the side of the freeway. His head was a pulpy mess where she’d shot him, oozing blood and gore into the dirt. “What’re we gonna do with him?”

  
“We’re not doing anything,” Daryl said, catching her face and turning it towards him. “You’re driving home, waking up Sophia and making sure she sees you come in, and going straight to bed.” He stood up slowly, pain obvious on his face, but he was upright at least. “I’ll come see you in the morning.”

  
“No, Daryl.” Carol reached her hand out and Daryl took it, pulling her to her feet. She staggered slightly and he caught her, putting his arm under hers, holding her steady. “I won’t have you putting your ass on the line to clean up my mess.”

  
“It’s not your mess, Carol, I—”

  
“Listen, I’ve got a car and twelve hundred dollars in a coffee tin.” Carol reached out, taking his face between her dirt streaked hands. “I got friends in Georgia. Good people. Come with me.”

  
“What’re you—”

  
“Skip town with me.”

  
“Carol.” He reached up gently, taking her hands from his face. “You as good as said yourself, you hardly know me.”

  
“Daryl, we’ve got a fella with his brains blown out on the side of the highway, is this really the time to have this conversation?”

  
They looked at each other in silence. Finally, Daryl scrubbed a hand over his face, turning back to where Jesse’s body lay in the dirt. “You got a blanket or something?”

  
“In the trunk.”

  
Daryl nodded. “Let’s get this motherfucker out of here. Then we’ll talk.”

***

Merle took the keys to Carol’s car, whistling happily to himself as he swung into the driver’s seat.

  
“Hey,” Daryl leaned down, looking at Merle through the driver’s window. “We need this car back, you hear?”

  
Merle just laughed. “Why, you goin’ somewhere? You know we can clean this up, brother. Ain’t no need to get your panties in a bunch.”

  
“Ain’t that.”

  
“Then what?”

  
Daryl shrugged. “Ain’t much for me here.”

  
“There’s me.”

  
“You’re an asshole,” said Daryl, aiming a punch at his arm. “And anyway, they have phones in Georgia.”

  
“You’re really willing to give up your whole life, the garage, the club, for a piece of skirt?”

  
“Just because you’re in a car don’t mean I won’t knock you out, brother.”

  
“Na, man. I’m serious. Are you sure about this?”

  
Daryl looked down at his hands. “Since when do you give a shit about my feelings?”

  
Merle put the keys in the ignition of Carol’s car. “Feelings.” He snorted. “Nut up, Daryella. Do I look like fucking Oprah to you?”

  
Daryl straightened up, letting Merle back the car out of the drive in front of Carol’s trailer. “You sure you don’t need another pair of hands?”

  
“I got it.”

  
“Thanks, brother.”

  
Merle held his gaze and for a second, he looked like he would say something. He was a bastard, but Daryl knew he was the only family he had. But then he looked away, pulling out of Angel Lake, Jesse’s body in the trunk of Carol’s car.

  
Daryl stuck a cigarette between his lips, lighting up and taking a deep drag. It had been a hell of a couple of days and his thoughts crowded in the front of his mind, jostling for position as he stretched out on Carol’s front step, the first rays of sunlight appearing on the horizon. The door banged behind him and Carol emerged. She’d changed out of her dirt and blood covered clothes, wearing just a vest top and a pair of jeans.

  
“Hey.” She sat next to him.

  
Daryl nodded. “Hey.”

  
“Merle gone?”

  
“Yeah.”

“What’s he gonna do with him?”

  
Daryl glanced round them, then back to Carol, offering her his cigarettes. She took one. “Not sure,” he admitted, leaning forwards to light it for her. Her fingers brushed his, sending a rush of awareness through his tired bones. “Drive him out to the desert somewhere, usually. Let the coyotes do the heavy lifting.”

  
Carol nodded. Daryl nudged her and she looked up, meeting his eye.

  
“You okay?”

  
She nodded. “Considering I just shot a guy and hauled his body in the trunk of my car yeah, I’m peachy.”

  
Daryl let out of huff of laugher, wincing as pain shot through his chest. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

  
“Daryl, listen, I’m so sorry l—“

  
“Carol, no—“

  
“Just let me speak, okay? I’m so sorry for what I said outside the bar. You’re not like...” She trailed off, closing her eyes. “You’re not like Jesse, or Cash, or Merle. And you were never just some guy. Not to me. Not even before all of this.”

  
He looked away, flicking ash onto the lawn. “Yeah?”

  
“Yeah.” Carol reached out, taking his hand in hers. “It’s not an excuse, but I’ve had a lot of shitty men in my life. I’m sorry for thinking you were one of them.”

  
Daryl nodded, looking down at their fingers. “We can clean this up, you know. No one to mourn Jesse but the club, and Cash has the deputy on payroll. We don’t have to leave.”

  
“I know. But I’ve wanted to for a long time. Nothing for me here but bad memories. But if you want to stay then I get it.”

  
“No,” he said, giving her hand a quick squeeze and getting to his feet, trying not to wince as pain lanced through him. “I’m coming. Just got one thing I’ve gotta do first.”

***

Cash was in his office when Daryl got to Mary’s, looking over paperwork, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

  
Daryl leaned on the doorframe of the office. “Knock knock.”

  
Cash looked up. “What happened to you?”

  
“Jesse. Merle call you?”

  
He put down his pen, pushing out the chair opposite his desk with one foot. Daryl sat. “Yeah,” said Cash. “Merle called.”

  
“Jesse went after Carol last night. Would have killed her. Me, too.”

  
“Looks like he nearly managed.”

  
Daryl laughed. “Yeah. It was closer than I’d have liked. Must be gettin’ old.”

  
“You and me both, kid.” Cash tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Look, Daryl. I don’t like it. There’ll be members that want you strung up for this. Worthless piece of shit or not, Jesse was one of us.”

  
“I know.”

  
“But I also know that if someone had come after Kasey, I would have done way worse than put a bullet in him.” Cash stood up, running a hand over his gray head. “He went after your old lady and he came after you and you got in there first. Can’t blame you for that. But I can’t have you over here anymore, do you understand that?”

  
“Yeah,” Daryl looked away, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “We’re skipping town. Heading across to Georgia.”

  
“What’s in Georgia?”

  
Daryl shrugged. “Friends. Fresh start.”

  
Cash snorted. “Yeah, and mosquitoes the size of my balls.” He slapped Daryl on the back, pulling him into a hug. “You be careful out there, brother.”

  
“Yeah, Cash. You too. I’m sorry about last night, man.”

  
“Water under the bridge. I’ll see you on the other side.”

***

Carol’s hand went to her gun tucked in her waistband as she heard a bike approaching, relief sweeping through her to see it was Daryl. He pulled up, a backpack over one shoulder.

  
“That all you taking?”

  
“That’s pretty much all I own,” he said, dropping his bag on the lawn with the others. “How’s Sophia doin’?”

  
“Pissed off.” Carol sighed, resting her hands on her narrow hips. “She wants to stay. Says she’s eighteen and I can’t tell her to go if she don’t want to.”

  
Daryl snorted. “Got a mouth on her.”

  
“Gets that from her father.”

  
“Oh yeah, how’s that?”

  
“You saying I’ve got a mouth?” Carol laughed, making to shove him but Daryl caught her arms, pulling her against him. “Hey, that’s cheating.” She leaned in, pressing her lips against his and his arms moved around her, holding her against his chest. Like she was something precious, something worth holding on to. “Daryl?”

  
“Hm?”

  
She looked up into his face, her heart beating double time. They’d had this coming a long time, she saw that now. This thing between them. A decade of polite conversation and stolen glances, and it had taken nearly getting killed to make her realize that life was way too short. If you spent your whole life trying to make yourself invulnerable, chances are you weren’t doing a whole lot of living. “I love you.”

  
Daryl took her face between his rough palms, kissing her. When he finally pulled away his eyes were bright, locked on hers like he’d never want to look anywhere else. “Never took you for a dumb bitch, Carol.”

  
She pushed at him, a giggle bubbling in her throat. God, like a teenager, not a woman of fifty. “Now who’s got a mouth?”

  
“Come here.” He pulled her to him again, kissing her long and slow with Carol’s arms around his neck like they had all the time in the world. Finally, he pulled away. “Come on, darlin,” he said softly. “Let’s drive.”


End file.
